Lost Boy
by Bone White Butterfly
Summary: It all began when a muggle mistook Harry for Albus Severus's brother...his younger brother.


Harry found the anonymity of the muggle crowd thrilling, as always. There, just a body in the throng of people on the platforms at Charing Cross, he was free. No reporters. No politicians. Just his family making its way towards the support column between platforms nine and ten for the umpteenth time.

This time the trip was not without incident, however. A careless misstep on Albus's part sent a muggle woman's stack of luggage collapsing onto the tile floor. Instead of a horrified apology for disturbing a Potter, the seventeen-year-old received a waspish order to watch his fool self. How refreshing. Harry glanced at his son's wide eyes and clenched jaw. He couldn't keep the rueful grin from creeping onto his face. Albus didn't seem to see the scowling matron with wrought-iron curls in quite the same way he did.

Detaching from Ginny, Harry stepped forward and stooped to help the woman retrieve her collection of scattered olive green suitcases. She rocked back on her heels to peer at him as he dutifully stacked the small cases on top of the narrow luggage cart. He rose and offered his hand to her. "Madam?"

She took it but not after giving him the most peculiar look. When they both reached their feet, she shifted her grip on his hand so she could shake it. "Thank you dearie. It's so nice to see that someone still has manners these days." She jerked her spare thumb at the slumped, impatient Albus. "He could learn a thing or two from you, your big brother."

The Muggle detached, grabbed the push handle of the luggage cart and, suddenly, she was gone. Harry stood, blinking at space she had left in the crowd in shock. His hand stayed outstretched until Lily snatched it.  
"We're going to be late, Dad!" his daughter heckled. "What, are you going senile in your old age?" He came back to himself enough to tug her braid smartly for that. "Ow! Dad, it's not like I lied. You're old."

"Forty is not old," he insisted. They passed through the platform wall into the Wizarding section. It was at once quieter, but the smell of burning coal more than made up for it.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Forty is ancient. Honestly, Dad, there are people your age with grey hairs. Just look at Scorpius's father."

"I'd rather not, thanks. And I still say that boy is bad news." She rolled her eyes again. Harry grimaced. When he had named his daughter after his mother, he had hoped for Lily to inherit the woman's brains and courage, not her penchant for attaching to the first Slytherin she met at the hip. If that wasn't bad enough, it had to be Draco's son. Somewhere up there, a Snape was smirking.

Lily squealed. She rushed away from him, making a beeline for a blonde. The crowd of students and parents parted for her and across the station, speak of the devil, he spotted Draco Malfoy staring back at him as their children collided. He looked precisely like the Lucius in Harry's earliest memories. That was more than a little unnerving by itself, but it also meant that, somewhere along the way, Malfoy had aged significantly.

Harry couldn't recall growing old. That was what unnerved him the most. He turned away from Malfoy and walked back to Ginny. She smiled at him as he sidled up beside her. Her eyes crinkled. When had that happened?

"Lily is a seventh year next August," she said with a strange mixture of awe, grief, and relief in her voice. "That will be the last time we see any of our children off. Can you imagine?"

Harry only blinked stupidly. "I hadn't thought about it that way before. I reckon it's snuck up on me. Do you want another one then?"

She gave him the look.

"What? What's another three or four? It wouldn't surprise anybody. Your cousin Abby's already left everyone, including your parents, in the dust."

"You keep ahead of four teenage witches and wizards trying to sneak into Knockturn when you're in your mid-fifties and your knees refuse to bend," she replied tartly. "And good luck birthing them in your forties while you're at it."

"Will you at least help me with the conception, or are your knees too old for that, too?"

She smacked his arm. "Harry!"

"It's a legitimate question. Lily has just informed me that forty is ancient. I wasn't aware that I was ancient, Ginny. Were you? I certainly don't feel it. Apparently I don't look it either. That poor muggle Al bowled over, she thought I was his brother. His younger brother. Can you imagine? Oh, the train's just started moving. Get ready to jump and wave and embarrass the living daylights out of the them. And don't talk about your knees. This is a Potter family tradition. They're not going to get out of it just because we're old and senile."

Ginny shook her head before smiling. They grasped hands, waited until they spotted Lily's braid, and then leapt into the air, windmilling their arms and whooping. It was easy to spot the first time parents by the stares when they settled back to earth and became responsible adults again.

"Ow." Ginny put a hand to her back. "I think I pulled something." Then she giggled.

They had a very interesting night.


End file.
